The Iron Game eBook

Jack meanwhile had struck a match, and soon found
the candles on the night-table near the bed.
There was, at the same instant, the audible sound
of scurrying along the passage. He ran out.
The man assailed by the dog had reached the head of
the stairs. As Jack got half-way down the corridor,
man and dog disappeared over the balustrade. When
he reached the hall the dog was inside, growling furiously,
the door was closed and the man gone. Jack opened
the door. Pizarro bounded out, and Jack followed.
The dog stopped a moment, sniffed the ground, and made
for the kitchen. A loud bark, followed by a ferocious
growl, and a scream of mortal pain broke on the air;
then a pistol-shot, and a long, pitiful gasp, and
silence.

“Well, that dog won’t trouble any one
now,” Jack heard, and the voice made his hair
rise into bristling quills.

“Barney!” he cried; “Barney Moore,
is that you?”

“It is; no one else. If I’m not drunk
or dreaming, that’s my own Jack. God be
praised!”

“How in Heaven’s name did you get here?”

“I might ask you the same question, but you
have priority of query, as they say in court.
I came here first to help rescue Captain Wesley Boone,
and second to capture his rebel Excellency Jeff Davis.”

“O my God! my God! Barney, Barney, tell
me all, and tell me quickly!”

Barney told all he knew, and told it rapidly, Jack
catching his arm almost fiercely, as the miserable
truth began to define itself in his whirling senses.
Then the meaning of the two marauders in the ladies’
apartments became plain. Jack and Barney were
hurrying toward the chamber as the latter talked,
Jack filled with an awful fear.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE STORY OF THE NIGHT.

Now, the timely—­or untimely—­appearance
of Jack and Dick in the crisis of the plot came about
in this way: Dick, on returning from Jack’s
room, had remarked, with quickening suspicion, a gleam
of light under Wesley’s door. Perhaps he
is ill, the boy thought, compunctiously; if he were,
he (Dick) ought to offer his services. He started
to carry this kind thought into effect, when he heard
suspicious sounds in the room. Some one was moving.
He waited, now in alert anticipation. The plaintive
signal of the whippoorwill—­bringing passionate
energy to Wesley—­reached Dick’s ears;
he heard the opening of the window; then silence.
Could Wesley be descending thence to the ground?
He blew out his candle, drew the curtain, and cautiously
raised the window. No; Wesley was not getting
out. Then the sound of the Pizarro episode came
dimly through the walls. He thought the dog’s
expostulatory growls a voice. There was someone
in the room with Wesley. Perhaps it was Kate.
It wouldn’t do to act until he was sure that
his suspicions were a certainty. Besides, Jack
had warned him not to interfere, with a mere escape
on Wesley’s part, unless it seemed to involve